The Smile in the Mirror
by Liz Hollow
Summary: "What do you see when you look in the mirror?" Serena asked me that day. I always wondered what she would have answered if I asked her instead.


**The Smile in the Mirror**

Despite the changes now, I could picture the way she looked when we first met perfectly in my mind. We were young then, and she still had that thick skin on her cheeks like the rest of us. She was flat as a board, and it was her tight clothes that gave the illusion that she actually had hips. And, certainly, she dressed more maturely than the rest of us, at least compared to Shauna who always seemed to dress like a kid.

It was when she smiled that I remembered that she was the same age as the rest of us, still young enough to squeeze her eyes shut and give a toothy grin. My first thought when I saw this smile was that she was beautiful, which took me by surprise a little bit because I never thought anyone was _beautiful_. My sister was pretty, and Shauna was pretty—but this girl, whoever she was, had the most beautiful smile I ever saw.

Her beauty—or perhaps the radiance of that smile—was enough to distract me. Shauna had to stand up from her chair and wave her hand in my face, shouting, "Trevor! Hey, earth to Trev! Yoo-hoo!" When I came to, blinking and surely turning a dark shade of pink, she sat back down. "What do you think? What should we call Serena?"

I panicked for a moment, mostly because I didn't know who Shauna was talking about until I realized that it must have been the name of the new girl. And then I panicked because the girl was looking right at me and still smiling, and she probably noticed that I had been staring at her earlier. _Then_ I panicked because she was expecting something from me.

"I—" I swallowed, forcing myself to look away from the girl, Serena. "I can't give a nickname to someone I've just met…"

"Aw, come on, Trev."

I folded my hands together in my lap, staring down at them to avoid everyone's gaze. "Um, S… S… S—"

Calem laughed, and I stopped, my cheeks burning again. "Well, it doesn't really matter, does it? Doesn't Serena get a say in what we call her? Who cares what we think if she doesn't like it, you know?"

Serena was still smiling when I looked up at her, though she wasn't looking at me anymore. "To be honest," she began, covering her mouth with her hand for a moment as she giggled, "I like being called Serena just fine." Her eyes flashed to mine, only for a second, and I looked down again. "But you can really call me anything."

"All right! Oh, man, I'm pumped!" Shauna jumped up from her chair again, and Calem followed suit beside her. "Come on, come on!"

The two of them ran off, leaving Serena, Tierno, and I behind, though this didn't last long. Tierno rose to his feet, too, and started off, calling for me to follow him. I lingered, staring at Serena as I made my way from the table. When she met my gaze this time, I noticed that she wasn't smiling anymore, but I didn't really think on it.

I could still picture her in my head, but to be honest, it was a struggle to remember that smile in all of its radiance now. It had been so long since I last saw it that it was starting to fade away, just like the rest of her.

* * *

I had a feeling that she had been smiling less each subsequent time that I saw her, though it was subtle enough for me not to really think on it. Besides, things had gotten serious pretty quickly, so it was fair to say that all of us had been smiling a little less. Somehow, we had all gotten tangled up in Team Flare's plans, Serena even more so than the rest of us.

For the most part, I tried my best to stay out of it. I hadn't signed up for this when I agreed to help Professor Sycamore. I had to be honest with myself—I wasn't the type of guy who sought adventure or wore his heart on his sleeve, seeking the company of others to be happy. In fact, I would be satisfied being by myself. I had known that for awhile, anyway.

The problem was that I knew full and well that not everyone was like that. And I could tell that Serena was the opposite of me: she surrounded herself with people, and I had a hunch that this was purposeful, like she was hiding herself behind the crowd.

This, of course, made me think that if something was wrong—if the fact that I hadn't seen that smile in a long time—that someone would have noticed and said something.

But I noticed. And I wouldn't say anything.

* * *

As quickly as things had started with Team Flare, things seemed to wrap up just as quickly. In reality, their defeat came only a year or so after things began, and in the week following that, Serena had defeated Diantha to become Champion. Professor Sycamore organized a parade for all of us—though mostly for Serena—and it was the first time in a long time that I saw Serena smile.

Maybe it was the illusion of youth that made me think that her smile had been brighter before, but we were only a year older. How much could things change in a year?

I was all right distancing myself from people, but for some reason, I stepped closer to Serena as we walked down the road in the parade. "Are you all right?" I whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the cheering crowd. Serena's eyes flashed towards me, but she was still waving at the people around us.

"Fine," she told me curtly, almost as if she was annoyed, but that was enough for me. I pulled back, returning to my spot behind her without another word.

She was still beautiful—but whatever it was that was different about her now, it was beginning to rear its ugly head. And I knew—I _knew_—that I ought to do something, maybe say something to Professor Sycamore while I had the chance. But, instead, I kept that assigned distance, staying in my spot behind Serena where I could just observe without getting close.

* * *

I returned home for a month after the parade ended. All the running around that adventuring demanded had worn me out, and I missed my sister—not that I would ever tell her that, and after a day of staying home, I really didn't miss her anymore. But I was tired, and I needed time to myself to think.

It was three weeks into my break that I saw Serena. My sister had sent me out to get some groceries, and it was as I was making my way to Centrico Plaza by Vernal Avenue that I saw her sitting on a bench with her face pressed against her palms. I wasn't sure it was actually her at first—she had a habit of changing her hair style and color a lot—but she lifted her head for a brief moment when a kid ran over to her with a piece of paper and pen, only to shoo him away.

I furrowed my eyebrows at this. "Serena?"

When I walked up to her, she raised her face from her hands again. "Please leave me alone!" she demanded, but when she accidentally met my gaze, she shot up straight. Her cheeks immediately went pink. "Oh, Trevor." She sniffled, wiping her red eyes. "Sorry. I thought… well, never mind. What are you doing here?"

"I was getting groceries," I said, holding up the bags in my hands. "But then I saw you—you look upset. Is everything okay?"

"Groceries? Do you live around here?" she countered, very obviously avoiding my question.

Well, two could play at that game if it was going to be like that. "You were crying. I know that I'm… I'm not Shauna or Calem or anyone like that, but you're still my friend. You can talk to me if something is wrong. And we don't have to do it out here in the middle of the street—my house isn't too far."

"You'd think it's stupid," she said hastily, wiping her eyes one more time for good measure. Then, she stood up, brushing her skirt off despite it being perfectly fine. "But I'll help you carry your groceries, if you want." Before I could object, Serena grabbed the bags from my left hand and smiled at me—that was a little better. "Lead the way."

The two of us walked in silence as we made our ways to Jaune Plaza. It was a little awkward, though maybe only for me because I kept looking back at her to make sure she was still following. Every time I glanced back, she was staring at the ground with her lips pursed, though whenever she noticed me looking, she would smile again.

"Here we are," I said, pushing my front door open and holding it for her. She stepped inside before me and was staring with the first real grin in a long time.

"Wow! I love it!" she breathed as we walked over to the kitchen counter to set the groceries down. There was a pregnant pause as she ran a hand over the countertops, staring up at the chandelier hanging over the kitchen table. The silence wasn't so loud, though, as it was a quiet reminder that there was still something wrong.

"Do you live here by yourself?" she asked, breaking the silence and looking at me again.

And then, as if to answer her question, my sister bounded into the room. "Trev—oh." She stopped in her tracks, staring conspicuously at Serena.

"My sister," I explained quickly, as if I owed Serena an explanation, despite her innocuous expression. Clearly she hadn't really thought anything wrong of the situation, which actually bothered me a little bit. Turning quickly to my sister, since I knew my cheeks were betraying my embarrassment again, I gestured towards Serena. "This is my friend, Serena."

"Oh, yeah, the Champion. I saw the parade." My sister pranced over towards us, holding her hand out towards Serena, who took it without hesitation. "I was just so proud of my little brother, you know? There was no way I would miss the parade. And, of course, you were walking right in front of him, so of course I would see you. You're even lovelier close up."

Serena dropped my sister's hand, turning her back on her to face the counter. She pulled some of the vegetables out of the shopping bags and smiled as she spun around again. "Let me help you put these away."

The smile was masking something this time. I could tell—from what, I wasn't sure. There was something forced about it, like the way you might smile for a camera or smile in the mirror after brushing your teeth. It was one of those strained ones that never quite got the perfect delicacy of a genuine candid smile.

But my sister was fooled by it. In fact, it was obvious to me that my sister enjoyed Serena's presence more than she enjoyed mine. She was chatting her ear off, maybe to Serena's chagrin, but it was also the first time in a long time that my sister had another girl in the house with whom to talk. Her friends never really came over, at least not while I was here.

"Thanks for letting me over, Trevor," Serena said from under the doorframe once all of the groceries were away and my sister sufficiently interrogated her. "Listen, I'm sorry about earlier. But could you just forget what you saw?"

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. How could I just forget seeing her crying?

"It was just a rough morning. I'm better now—promise. So… just pretend it never happened, 'kay?" she asked again.

"I'm not sure I can. There's something weird happening to you," I accused, though I hadn't meant for it to come out so harsh. Her eyes widened a little bit, and they flickered away from mine. "Sorry. I just mean that you're not the same as you were before everything happened."

"You didn't even know me then," she shot back. Then, sighing, she shook her head. "Trev, what do you see when you look in the mirror?"

I gaped at her for a second, not really sure what she was asking. "What?"

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?" she repeated.

I tried to picture myself standing in front of a mirror in my head. I could see me—just me, no clear background behind the me in the mirror of my head, so I wondered if that made it a mirror at all. If it was just me in my head, then there could be no way for me to tell. Then again, no one looked in a mirror to see the wall behind him.

"Me, I guess."

Serena smiled one last time, this one clearly more pained than the others. Her lips were pressed thin, no teeth showing, and her eyes were squinted together because of her furrowed eyebrows. There was something eerily depressing about it, and she nodded slowly. I could have sworn I could see tears form along her eyelids before she turned away from me.

"See you later, Trevor."

Maybe I should have ran after her instead of watching her walk away. Maybe I should have asked her what she saw instead of holding my tongue. If I knew that it would be the last time I saw her, perhaps I would've. But I didn't, and I couldn't now.

* * *

It wasn't completely true that it was the last time I saw her. I saw her a lot in those next several years—on the billboards towering over the Lumiose roads, in those flashy posters in the windows of various shops, on the giant screen at the edge of the city.

I realized that the fact that these pictures and videos were showing up meant that she was probably in Lumiose, but the days turned into years without a word from her too long ago to make a difference. I had already gone back to school, finished with a degree, and gotten a job in the time before she appeared in front of me again as a nearly naked two-dimensional girl.

Anyway, it wasn't my business anymore. There was no need for me to concern myself with a girl who I never really knew and never made an effort to know. I was a professional now, a man with a good life, and those romantic notions I once held in the back of my mind had long faded. She had her life, and I had mine.

The walk home from work felt especially long today…

My sister moved into a new house with her partner, leaving me behind with our home. The convenience of it was enough for me to keep it rather than find an apartment of my own, though there was something slightly worrisome about the fact that I lived in my childhood home as a twenty-two-year-old. But still, the walk home shouldn't have been so long.

I stopped suddenly to avoid knocking over a person in a hoodie in front of me. The person wasn't moving, instead facing one of the many windows that flanked us on either side.

"Excuse me," I whispered, side-stepping the person. But a moment of curiosity got the best of me, and I looked to see what the person had been staring at.

I ended up standing beside the person in the hoodie, staring at a smiling Serena in a yellow raincoat, rain falling on her as she held her arms up towards the sky. Her feet were bare, which didn't seem very practical, but it reminded me of a little kid splashing in a puddle. Serena always acted so mature, even from that first moment I met her, so maybe she had never jumped in a puddle.

"She's really pretty," the person in the hoodie commented, the voice revealing the speaker to be a woman. "I wish I could look like her."

I wasn't sure exactly how to respond to that. My sister used to cut models out of magazines and hang them on the refrigerator, and she would stand in front of her makeshift mural sometimes and hold onto the handle on the refrigerator without ever opening it. My sister was pretty as she was—I was never really sure what she was trying to do.

But she eventually ripped all of those pictures down, grabbing a pint of ice cream and falling down on the couch beside me. "I love ice cream," she told me, laughing as she swallowed a spoonful.

What could I say to a total stranger if I could never confront my sister about it? Wasn't it just some girl thing, anyway?

"Ah, but they photoshop these models. These companies' expectations are unrealistic." The woman in the hoodie laughed, the sound ringing vaguely familiar. "It's like looking in the mirror and finding out that the smile isn't even yours…"

"What?" I demanded, but the woman didn't even look towards me. It couldn't possibly be…

"It's been a long time, Trevor."

My hands involuntarily curled into fists, and I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. Why, today of all days, did she have to appear before me? Was it some sort of sick joke—that I would think of her, and she would magically show up like some sort of fairy? She was a girl, just a girl, that I had written off for good.

"Come with me," she ordered, grabbing one of my clenched fists, and she dragged me down the road. I let her pull me forward, my eyes flashing back and forth from window to window, Serena staring at me from every angle.

And then it all stopped. She tugged me into a small café and lowered her hood as she settled into a seat. There was a visible difference between her face here and her face in those pictures. Her cheeks were sunken here, her skin slightly grey, and I shook my head as I slumped into a seat across from her.

"All they need is the shape," Serena said, a smirk on her lips. She lifted her sweatshirt, revealing bones and skin and not much else. "Nothing else matters."

"What happened?" I asked, still staring at her torso even after she lowered her sweatshirt.

"You saw me that day on Vernal Ave—the day that you were getting groceries. I was crying, right?" When I nodded, she continued, "I was already Champion at that point, but the attendants at Boutique Couture wouldn't even let me in. When I demanded they tell me why, they said that I didn't fit the part, so I wouldn't fit the clothes. And it wasn't the first time I hadn't been let in somewhere because of how I looked. But, oh, I showed them."

She was… but she was always so beautiful. That didn't make sense.

"Sorry," she said with a smile, one that definitely didn't match the one in the picture. "That's a lot to throw at someone who I just met again for the first time in years."

"Serena…"

"I'm a model," she explained, as if she owed me an explanation, and maybe she did. But this wasn't what I expected. "I'm an… an _inspiration_ for women everywhere! Girls walk outside, and they see my face, my body… everywhere. They aspire to look like me. But if they looked like me, they'd wish that they never saw me at all."

I didn't even know what to say. This was the first time I saw her in years, and, frankly, I was a little overwhelmed. I had a normal life—I worked nine to five, I had a house, I still trained my Pokémon, and I had long since been out of touch with my childhood friends. It was all so completely ordinary, and I was happy that way.

Now, what was I supposed to do? Serena practically popped up out of nowhere, all because I wasn't watching where I was walking, and now what?

Helping her meant sacrificing my normal life.

Maybe that was why no one ever did anything… humans were naturally selfish. But how could anyone ignore her when she was so blatantly asking for help?

I stood up and held out my hand, and she stared at it. Then, she smiled—and it was one of those genuine smiles that I used to know—and every feeling I ever had for her came rushing back all at once. Even in this gaunt, deteriorating body, she was still beautiful. But she had been beautiful the whole time.

She slipped her hand into mine and stood up, pulling her hood back up with her free hand. "It's good to see you, Trevor," she whispered, and then the two of us returned back to the streets where her face stared at us from every angle.

* * *

Serena vanished again, but it was actually for the best that she did. The modeling agency pulled down all of her posters, and her commercials were taken off the air. And just like that, every trace of her—and she had once been so ubiquitous—disappeared like smoke. A new model took her spot, and that was that.

The whole thing bothered me. All of this could have been prevented if I just acted on my suspicions those many years ago, when I first noticed that she didn't smile much anymore. Even if I followed her that day when she left my house, asked her what she saw in the mirror, maybe she would be okay now.

But I knew now what she saw in the mirror. I told her that I saw myself, and that was true. After that day, I stopped myself in front of my bathroom mirror and stared at my reflection—it was me, just me, and it was all I could justify.

Serena, though, saw an entirely different person. The reflection wasn't actually her but a copy, one that looked better or worse depending on the lighting. And she spent so much time saying, "I actually look nice today," that she convinced herself that it meant she usually looked bad. It didn't exactly help that Boutique Couture and other high-end locations kept refusing her entry because she didn't look the part.

Now, the Serena she created had faded away. Not because of me—I didn't do anything. All I did was hold out a hand; she was the one who took it.

"Groceries!"

There was a knock on my door only after it opened, and Serena entered carrying several paper bags full with vegetables and cans. A girl trailed in behind her, one a couple of years younger who had entered the same rehabilitation program as Serena around the same time. For some reason, I had a difficult time remembering her name.

"Why'd you get me groceries?" I wondered, peering into the bags as the two girls set them down on the kitchen counter.

"Because I helped you carry your groceries home that one time, and… I felt like doing it again. Also," Serena added, jabbing a thumb at her friend. "Delilah's hungry and wants dinner. And she likes when you cook it."

Delilah. Right.

"What about you?"

Serena laughed, her smile radiating once again, just like the first time we met. "I don't understand her obsession. No offense, but you're kind of a mediocre cook. You could be worse, but…"

"Oh." I shouldn't have been insulted, but I was. How bad could my cooking be? They hadn't died or anything.

"You're hurting his feelings," Delilah noted, and my cheeks burned.

I waved my hands to brush off the slight accusation. "It's fine."

"Sorry. The truth is," Serena began quietly, her expression serious again, "I actually just wanted to see you and felt I needed an excuse. So, as an apology, I'd be more than happy to help you cook. Unless you want us to leave."

So much for my normal life…

I grabbed the bunch of celery from a bag and a cutting board from the drawer near the window. "You don't need an excuse," I muttered, hopefully quietly enough that Serena didn't hear, but when I looked up, she was smiling beside me with a jar of beans in her hands. Her eyes were squeezed shut, just like a little kid again, and I couldn't help but smile, too.

But when she opened her eyes, she gasped, and I dropped the knife I had grabbed on the counter. "What?" I demanded.

She pointed to the window, where her reflection and mine stared back at us, though not as clearly as in a mirror. She was still smiling, and when she lowered her hand, she grabbed my arm and pressed her fingers into my skin.

"I'll be right back," she practically shouted, and she ran away down the hall. I glanced back at Delilah, and she shrugged.

"Me, too," I said, and I followed after Serena.

When I walked into the bathroom, the door still open, I found Serena smiling to herself in the mirror like a statue, not moving and barely breathing. But when I got closer, she turned to me, and tears glistened in her eyes. "It's mine," she breathed, and when I stood beside her, she looked in the mirror again. "It's us."

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, just like she had before, but these tears only brought happy ones to mine. "Yeah," I agreed. "It's you."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I found this sitting in my one-shot folder this morning when I was going to open a different file and wondered why I hadn't posted it. It's from, like, six months ago.

So, here you go. Posted.


End file.
